Monday, May 2, 2011

Will he....

Will he let me walk alone?

When I stumble and fall

And want to get up

All by myself, will he

Just let me?

And when I grow up

And need his hand on my head

Will he do it silently?

And when I want him to say

Those comforting words,

Will he just say that much?

And when he wants me to

Pat him on his head,

Will he just ask for it?

Friday, April 29, 2011

Gusty winds


You called out for me.

You called me in.

They waited and knocked

Wanting me out.

Two in peace

And of a piece

Are a big noise

In the rest of the world

That knows no rest.

You tried but could not

Stop the gust coming in

And blowing things

Hither thither.

I am out now, they happy

Inside all covered by dust

Blown from four corners

Of the world.

Feed..


Cows gathered and calves licked

His palms, as he fed them

Slices of bread

In the early morning.

Pigeons picked grain while

Parrots tried mingling with them.

The stray dogs stirred out of

Their slumber.

I watched the old man

And his delight at feeding

The cows.

He looked up and said,”

What a nice feeling!”

Indeed feed is

Such a good deed!

Monday, April 18, 2011

Aging without....


-->
I feel like a wise old man
When youngsters bow in reverence;
I know they are looking for
father figures, not me.
I feel like a brash young man
When youngsters brush past me
In a queue at the counter.
I know they are in a hurry
To get things from life.
I feel like a junior
When senior citizens ask for
A helping hand;
Have I grown at all?
It is fun to age without
Maturing..

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The ticket to....

Was that my voice,

so soft and warm?

Were those my words,

so straight and tight?

It’s as though

I have never known

this creature called

Myself.

Did I push him out

of my horizon?

I don’t even know

what and how I dealt

him. Nor what happened

to and of him.

Now as the journey

comes to an end

the Bus conductor

is asking if he is

carrying his ticket.

“If a man has paid

with his life, his

Shadow is free”.

The conductor was

gracious not to ask

who was the man and

who the shadow.


Far from the crowd....

The city looks bleak

From the lush outskirts

And the river muddy

From atop the hill.

I pulled myself

Out of every mainstream

Only to look

Scornfully at those

In the centre.

Their glory garish,

Their entertainment tawdry

And their life a tragic loss.

I was on a high horse

And majestic!

But statues can’t move a muscle!!


Questions unanswered....


Some questions

are best left to time

to answer;

Time is capacious

to carry all

possibilities;

The great director above

chooses the scripts

He wishes to play

on the stage

at particular times.

Time always selects

the role of dwarf

for Logic

whatever be the script

and whichever the play.


Saturday, April 9, 2011

Colours off....

They scratched their heads

and screamed;

They strained their veins

and vented,

They shouted their guts

and shook their fists.

And then they

saw what they were yelling after:

the colour of money.

And all colour drained from their

Faces

At

Once.

Money took away

what life had gifted them:

colours of life.


Friday, April 8, 2011

In Stillness of Time.....

It has been my lot

to put life back

into Clocks

that tick not

any more

They don’t like

the ghastly sight

of a Clock not moving.

But Time hasn’t stopped.

I suspect it never will,

except for the living

who keep repeating

the same script

from childhood to

oldage, of eat-drink-make merry

and marry-carry-tarry.

I am happy putting life

back into Clocks, not

having to dirty my hands

handling the living.


Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The torch of new humanism

Silo (1938 - 2010) was the Argentinian thinker and writer whose work gave shape to the New Humanism. (www.silo.net) Notably all his works are freely available on the internet. Centrality of the human being, non-violence, freedom, respect for all cultures and a ceaseless quest for learning are the cornerstones of New Humanism. Silo wrote with extreme economy of words and with extreme subtlety of meanings. One of my favourite quotes from him is : "There is no criminal in the world who is a stranger to me". My salute to Silo.

He returned to his roots

only to widen his horizons

He spoke from his heart

only to break through thick skulls

He made images dance

only to clear the ground

He touched the cords

with few words crafted

Like a true artist he

Played with and not

Played upon his instruments

He smiled his way heartily

Across the seven seas

to overcome suffering of millions

And travelled across centuries

Back and forth to connect with

The eternal stream of humanising

This earth and its skies.



Monday, April 4, 2011

Its April again...


It's the month of Poetry again and my friend Sandeep A dutifully reminded me of it. Of course, it was on my mind. On 1st I travelled by train to Amritsar alongwith my wife and in-laws. The train started late and we reached the hotel just before midnight. The next day we visited Harmandir Sahib or Darbar Sahib or Golden Temple as it is popularly called. After lunch we settled down to see the World Cup Final and slept late basking in the midnight glory of our triumph. The return journey started pretty early yesterday morning and by the time we reached home I was fully exhausted. So it is the 4th April today for the first poetic offering.



He told us to collect
a few leaves of the holy
berry tree to keep all sorrows
away;
then he met us at the holy
berry tree to remind the women
to sprinkle the holy water
on the old man in the wheel chair
so that he may be hale and hearty again.
"Many have come here to return
able bodied", he said.
Then the wheels of the chair got stuck
and he came to lift it and keep it on track.
The singer put his soul in the words
"Thy name is grief-breaker, thy name is.."
The water was full of devotion and the air
was full of compassion and the earth
was softness itself. Even the Sun shone
benevolently as love enveloped us from
all sides.
Who would not go back ablebodied?